Long Live King Ratigan
by Shelly Lane
Summary: A casual conversation with Felicia gets Toby to wondering what Mousedom would have been like if Basil had never become a detective (and worse, if he had actually been a criminal). The first and last chapters are actual events in Toby's life; the other chapters are what he imagines. Dedicated to my mother, who has been my source of inspiration for many stories
1. Another Case Solved

**Another Case Solved**

Felicia lifted the helpless mouse and raised him to her lips.

"Put me down!" he begged.

Slowly, she opened her mouth.

"I told you I don't know anything!"

The cat placed the mouse between her jaws.

"Alright! I'll talk!"

Smiling, she nodded and placed the mouse on the ground, pinning his tail with her paw so he couldn't escape.

He glared. "I kidnapped the gerbil. It was my part of the job. My partner was the one who was supposed to commit the murder. His name is Everett Grady. He's a silversmith."

Within the hour, both criminals had been arrested.

"Basil's lucky to have us working for him," Felicia remarked.

I sighed. "You reformed your ways over a year ago, and you still act like you're going to eat the suspects. How many times do I have to tell you…?"

"'That is not proper detective work,'" she finished for me. "Toby, even though I no longer work for Ratigan, no one is ever going to see me as a harmless cat. They're always going to see me as the mouser I used to be. Why not make the most of it? Besides, it gets them to confess, doesn't it?"

There are few things more pointless than arguing with a cat. They never listen to reason, so anyone who tries is just wasting breath. That being, I made no reply to her nonsense.

"Basil's lucky to have us," she repeated, "but even though his violin gets to be irritating, I think we're even more fortunate to have him. Imagine if Basil had never become a detective! Ratigan would still be alive." Her eyes widened in the horror of a sudden realization. "In fact, Ratigan would be king! Imagine if we all lived under his authority forever!"

I shuddered. I did not want to imagine it, yet for some reason, I couldn't erase the hypothetical nightmare from my mind. I've never been an imaginative dog, but I couldn't help but wonder what Mousedom would have been like without Basil's work as an investigator. Finally, when I could stand it no longer, I recorded the theoretical events that could have easily become reality if Queen Moustoria had died the night of her Diamond Jubilee.


	2. Another Political Argument

**Another Political Argument**

Selma Kensington was born in the first year of the reign of King Ratigan I. By the time she was ten years of age, she had learned the rules of her kingdom.

Every morning on her way to school, she bowed to the statue of Ratigan in the town square. Anyone who passed the statue without paying homage would be sentenced to three years in prison.

In school, she learned how Queen Moustoria's system of government had been weak. No advancements in the fields of medicine or science had been made during her reign, and all her subjects had cursed her name. King Ratigan's way was much more beneficial to all rodents of Mousedom. He was a noble and just ruler, renowned for his wisdom and mercy.

Princess Felicia was Ratigan's adopted daughter. He was the perfect father to her, never losing his temper. He had taught her to be as gracious as himself. She was his equal in authority. Any rodent who met her was required to offer her a gift of food, and if she didn't find the food acceptable enough, she had permission to eat the offender.

This was not injustice. Even children knew that anyone who opposed the benevolent King Ratigan was a traitor who deserved to die.

One day when Selma returned home from school, she noticed her younger brother limping.

"Marcellus, what's wrong?" she inquired.

"Nothing is wrong," he replied. "It is an honor to serve my king. All must suffer for the greater good."

Mrs. Kensington sighed. "In other words, some of the members of Parliament forced you into taking a long route and refused to give you a break, so now your feet are sore."

"It is an honor to be a courier for His Majesty, King Ratigan." Marcellus bowed as he said the name of his ruler.

"Lies!" retorted Ignatius, the only Kensington child old enough to remember life under Queen Moustoria. "Ratigan works his couriers ten hours for a single shilling! I don't even know how he manages to send so many messages!"

"Ignatius!" Marcellus gasped in horror. "That's no way to speak of His Majesty!"

"He lies to children! He took over the kingdom by force, hired his own thugs to be in charge of Parliament and be his personal guards, corrupted our society with outlandish laws, and turned our government into a dictatorship! He mistreated his cat until she became a criminal, and she's still under his command! Taxes have more than tripled since he gained control! His own ruffians are terrified of him! Tell me if I missed anything!"

"We must show our king all the loyalty he deserves."

"I do," responded Ignatius. "He deserves none, and I show him none!"

"No more arguing, children," Mrs. Kensington interrupted. "We must look our best for the ceremony tonight."

Every time King Ratigan had a ceremony, all who lived within fifty miles of the event were commanded to attend. To ensure all his subjects would eventually witness his power, the tyrant held each ritual in a different city.

On this particular evening, all would be gathered to commemorate the anniversary of the day the princess had been born. Every year, to honor another year being added to Felicia's life, a number of baby mice equal to her age was brought before her as she reclined on a silk cushion before a golden dish of cream.

Mrs. Kensington's neighbor abhorred the celebration. There had been a time when she had dreamed of having children, but as years passed, she had never experienced the joy of holding her own baby. Just when she believed she was destined to go through life without becoming a mother, she found herself with child. Tragically, the infant had been born stillborn. As the poor woman was approaching the age where she would be too old to bring children into the world, she once again gave birth.

This baby had been born alive, much to the parents' delight. The infant had sparkling eyes, a winsome smile, and an endearing laugh. The parents hadn't known they could love anything so much.

Before the child's sixth month of life, King Ratigan had held another birthday celebration for Princess Felicia. Some things are better left unsaid.


	3. Another Secret Meeting

**Another Secret Meeting**

As soon as Big Ben had finished the twelfth toll, Ignatius tiptoed from his room and silently slipped out the front door. He didn't mind the rain that fell in torrents, for the storm greatly reduced his chances of encountering any of Ratigan's guards.

Looking around to make sure no one was following him, he walked to the grocer's shop and knocked twice at the east window and once at the door.

"We're closed!" a voice inside the building responded.

"What time will you open?" Ignatius queried.

"Not before dawn," the voice answered.

"Let dawn arrive before I die of hunger."

The door opened, and Ignatius quickly stepped inside the shop, where the rest of the group had already gathered.

"Think any of Ratigan's men will ever discover the code?" a young woman asked rhetorically.

"They have to catch us first in order to realize we even have a code," replied Ignatius. "You all know why we're here! Throughout the city of London, mothers are weeping for their babies who were fed to that wretched cat earlier this evening! This has to stop! I say we make this the last year Felicia takes the lives of innocent children!"

This suggestion was met with applause.

"I have nothing against rats," he continued. "Some are wonderful members of society. However, I know one particular rat who has no business in Mousedom!"

There were several sounds of agreement.

"Every time he publicly executes 'traitors,' he 'pardons' a few to show his 'mercy,' but the ones who are allowed to go free are his own men! They pretend to be prisoners so he can act as if he's liberating a few captives, but in reality, it's only to keep up appearances! It's time we put an end to this! They say we are only rebellious adolescents, but who better to fight for the reformation of society? The children are too young, and the adults are too frightened!"

His words were met with enthusiastic cheers, which subsided in mere seconds as the others suddenly came to the realization that if they made too much noise, they could be discovered and condemned as traitors.

"Your words are without a doubt the echo of every heart in the empire," another member of the group began, "but how are we to do it?"

"If we can't change society, we'll have to find a way to help the innocent escape it!" Ignatius replied. "When enough residents of Mousedom live in safety, they will find a way to help the rest of us!"

"How will we get past Ratigan's guards?"

"We'll decide that next time we meet."

None of these secret meetings ever lasted very long. In addition to evading authorities, the young mice also had to avoid their parents' suspicions. Despite the bad weather, they concluded their meeting with the favored ritual of spitting on the shoes of Ratigan's statue in the town square.


	4. Another Important Discussion

**Another Important Discussion**

The prison guard unlocked the door, and Norman Kensington stepped out. He had spent the last year of his life behind bars as punishment for accidentally sneezing within a hundred feet of Ratigan's statue. He knew he had been extremely fortunate. Often when prisons became too crowded, inmates were chosen at random to become the object of experiments. Ratigan enjoyed nothing more than inventing new ways to execute offenders.

Norman smiled for the first time in twelve months when he finally stepped inside his own home and embraced his wife, who cried for joy as she kissed him. He was surprised at how much Marcellus and Selma had changed during his absence. Ignatius also seemed different.

"I'm worried about our son," Mrs. Kensington confessed later that evening. "This morning when I was doing laundry, I noticed that his clothes were wet before I began washing them. The only explanation that crossed my mind was that Ignatius had been out in the rain, but the storm was late at night and early this morning. Why would he leave the house during those hours?"

"Perhaps he had them too close to his window and left it partially open by mistake," her husband suggested.

Meanwhile, Ignatius invited Selma to join him for a walk. Their parents had agreed on the condition that they were not to go far. Never before had Selma seen such a serious look on her brother's face.

"You're getting old enough that you have to decide what you believe," he began, "and when you know what you believe, you have to stand for it, no matter what the price."

Selma pondered her brother's words, but she didn't understand the full meaning until six years later.


	5. Another Criminal Dies

******Another Criminal Dies**

As she returned home from an errand, Selma accidentally bumped into one of the royal guards, who was off duty.

"Excuse me, sir," she apologized.

He nodded in approval. "You're a pretty one. You're coming with me!"

Before she could protest, he dragged her to Buckingham Palace.

"What is it?!" one of the guards on duty snapped.

"I found one His Majesty might like!"

She was brought before Ratigan, who smiled when he saw her.

"You're rather winsome, my dear," he greeted.

Selma bowed. "Your Majesty is gracious to compliment his loyal subject."

"Rather humble," the king remarked. "In no time at all, I will have you trained to please me."

"What do you mean, Your Highness?"

"I need a wife."

She was sure she hadn't heard him correctly. "A wife, Sire?"

He chuckled. "Yes! I do believe you'd be a fine woman to have!"

Selma frantically tried to think of how to refuse without risking the tyrant's wrath. "I am flattered that Your Eminence would even consider his humble servant for a bride, but you deserve a much better woman than I could ever hope to become, my liege. You should have a larger mouse, the same subspecies of mouse that you are, Your Majesty. A small mouse like myself could never bear children to be your heirs."

Ratigan shrugged. "I don't need that kind of wife."

"What kind of wife does Your Highness have in mind?"

"Your duties would be simple," he explained. "Every morning and evening, you would kiss my feet to show your submission. You would kneel before me to show your adoration before the public during every official ceremony. Naturally, you would obey me in all things. I would never show you any type of affection or refer to you by any term of endearment. That's all I need from a wife. Just think of the honor it would be for you! As my spouse, you would be the queen of all Mousedom. That wouldn't give you any real authority, but it's a nice title."

"How could I please you, my liege?" continued Selma. "I am only a youth. Your Majesty is over three times my age. Would not Your Highness prefer a woman who would be more like a wife than a daughter?"

"Age hardly matters," the king responded. "Appearance is everything."

"What if I don't believe I deserve to be your wife?"

Ratigan pulled a bell from his pocket. "By the end of the month, you'll either hear wedding bells or this one ring for you. That will be all." He dismissed her with a wave of his hand.

As soon as she was home, Selma burst into tears.

"Marry him," Marcellus advised after his sister had explained the entire story. "All he requires is that you show him utmost respect. You will live at Buckingham Palace and be wealthy. Besides, why should you allow him to kill you? Isn't being queen a much more desirable fate than being a cat's next meal?"

"You decide," Ignatius stated. "Either live in bondage or die in freedom. Search your heart. You know what's best for you."

Their conversation was interrupted by someone pounding on the door.

"Come in!" invited Marcellus.

A mouse stepped inside. "Is this the residence of one Ignatius Kensington?"

"It is," replied Ignatius. "How may I be of service?"

"I arrest you in the name of His Majesty, King Ratigan! The charge is treason!"

Mrs. Kensington gasped. "Ignatius has never been disloyal to His Highness!"

The visitor frowned. "Madame, your son has been leading a group of rebels who have been helping citizens flee the empire! These traitors even spit on King Ratigan's statue! This treachery has continued for six years, and now it must end!"

Ignatius refused to bow in Ratigan's presence. The king ignored his insolence, turning his attention to the other mouse instead.

"Well done, Basil," the sovereign complimented.

"Thank you, Ratigan. After years of considering the manner, I believe myself to be ready to accept your offer. Rather than remaining a private citizen, it would indeed be far more sensible to become your prime minister and equal partner. Two brilliant minds such as ours could have even greater success if the intelligence were combined."

The monarch turned to Ignatius. "The next public ceremony is in half an hour. You have that long to make your decision. Give me the names of the other traitors in your group, and you will only serve fifty years in prison. I should give you a life sentence, but I'm feeling rather merciful. In fact, if you tell me where to find your friends, I'll make it twenty years. No! Ten years! I'm being more than generous! I'll even see if I can pardon you after you serve half your sentence!"

"And if I refuse?" Ignatius demanded.

"Then you will take your place among other traitors during the ceremony!"

"I cannot trust a tyrant to keep his word! Do with me what you will!"

To his surprise, Ratigan began laughing. "Your audacity is rather amusing! I believe you could be useful! I think I'll spare you. We shall discuss the details after the ceremony."

The ceremony turned out to be yet another public execution. As usual, Ratigan made sure to save a head to mail to the victim's friends or distant relatives with a note that read: "This is one of my most useful servants in international matters. He has been my eyes in France, my hands in Italy, and my feet in Spain. He took so much weight off my shoulders that I thought it only fitting that I returned the favor by removing some from his."

However, when Felicia had been fed and the last mousetrap had been set off, a voice was heard shouting above the crowd.

"Who is it?!" the king demanded. "See what she wants!"

Selma once more stood before her monarch. "Your Majesty, I know now that I will never be able to consent to marry you. I don't need a month to think it over, so you may as well kill me now than cause me to spend the rest of the month in torment, knowing my eventual fate."

"Very well," Ratigan answered. "If that is your decision."

Ignatius spoke respectfully to his king for the first time in his life. "Your Majesty, I humbly beseech that her life be spared and a different bride be chosen."

"Only if you are willing to die in her place!" the king retorted.

"I am," he answered without hesitation.

"So be it!" Ratigan rang the bell to summon Felicia.

"You don't have to pick me up and drop me into your mouth," Ignatius stated when the cat arrived. "I'll walk past your lips myself."

She nodded, licking her lips eagerly.

He turned to address his sister for the final time. "When you know what you believe, you have to stand for it, no matter what the price."

With that, he entered the gaping jaws. Selma was sobbing so hard that she never heard the sound of crushed bones.

Ratigan turned to Basil. "Now that you've decided to join me, I believe we shall have far more entertaining demises to plot."

"You should offer those sentenced to death a chance to survive," began Basil, "yet you must make it impossible. Feelings of despair increase significantly if one has hope and loses it rather than feeling as if there is no hope in the first place. For example, declare that you will spare the lives of anyone who can escape from an elaborate trap, but you must be certain that any attempt would only hasten the death of your intended victim. You could also announce that you would spare whoever could carry you a hundred yards. Due to obvious differences in size, any mouse who lifted you without assistance would be crushed."

The king laughed wickedly. "I love it!" He poured a glass of champagne. "To my new prime minister!"

Basil lightly tapped his glass against Ratigan's. "Long live the king!"


	6. Another Story Ends

******Another Story Ends**

"What do you think?" I asked as I finished my tale.

"Tobias Euclid Holmes! That was without a doubt the **__****worst **story I've **__****ever** heard!"

"But don't you think that's how life would have been if Ratigan had become king?"

Felicia took a deep breath. "The plot was pathetic, you exaggerated Ratigan's criminal record far beyond credibility, the majority of the details were too vague to comprehend, and you made me sound like if I hadn't reformed my ways and been adopted by Mrs. Hudson, I would have turned into a heartless, murderous psychopath!"

"I hate to tell you this, cat, but for several years, you were a heartless, murderous psychopath."

Her eyes narrowed, and she made that strange growling noise in her throat, the kind of sound that tells you a cat is about ready to slash your ears to ribbons. I had a feeling I was going to spend the rest of the afternoon cringing as Holmes and Watson administered antiseptic to cat scratches on my nose, but just as suddenly as Felicia's anger had overpowered her, it left.

"You know, you're right," she admitted. "I see that now. I'm glad I was finally able to overcome it."

With that, she started singing the most ludicrous song I'd ever heard:

___Had no heed for henchmen who warned, "Don't try it!"_

___When you started using live mice in my diet…_

___You said you'd be king! Your plan's gone awry!_

___You're the reason I've been mauled and left to die!_

___I know now what I must do_

___What I was taught by…well, you_

___I've been trained to feel_

___No guilt when I kill_

___I've learned that betrayal is fun_

___You rang the bell and_

___Wanted a felon, now_

___Aren't you proud of what you've done?!_

___Even louder!_

___I'll shout it!_

___No one can doubt what I know I can do!_

___Now more evil than even you!_

___Oh, Ratigan! Oh Ratigan!_

___I soon shall have dined_

___On Ratigan! On Ratigan,_

___The world's hated criminal mind!_

When she had finished her song, I rolled my eyes. "Anyone who comes up with lyrics that absurd has no business complaining about my story!"

She slapped me on the shoulder as hard as she could, but fortunately, she didn't unsheathe her claws to do it.

"Did you sing that on the night Ratigan fell from Big Ben?"

"I thought about it," she answered, "but I realized the fewer words I said to him, the greater impact it would have, especially since he didn't know I was able to speak."

That night, Felicia announced that she had an idea. "You told me what you thought it would be like if Basil was never a detective. I'm going to think of what life would've been like if Ratigan had never become a criminal. I'll tell you about it later." She curled up into a ball and closed her eyes.

I yawned. "Get some rest. You're going to need it. Mrs. Hudson says you're getting a bath tomorrow."

"Better than what Mr. Holmes says you're getting!"

"What have you heard?!" I asked uneasily.

"Good night, Toby."

"Tell me!" I demanded. "I know you're not asleep yet, Felicia! What have you heard?!"

She didn't answer.

Stupid cat! She may have stopped being heartless and murderous, but most of the time, I'm pretty sure she's still a psychopath.

Just don't tell her I said that.


End file.
